


last train home

by orphan_account



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chance Meetings, Cute, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He knows what he wants, and he wants the boy who keeps looking at him, who won't shy away when Taekwoon looks back."</p>
            </blockquote>





	last train home

**Author's Note:**

> [[playlist](http://8tracks.com/d3bonair/last-train-home)]

Taekwoon's lost count of how many times he's looked at the clock above the register. Last he checked, it was 9:13, but somewhere between quick glances around the restaurant and the boy standing beside the counter, it's become 9:20; and really, it isn't his fault he's lost sight of the time, or the fact he's the only person waiting to order but is standing far enough away that it looks like he's still trying to make a decision. He knows what he wants, and he wants the boy who keeps looking at him, who won't shy away when Taekwoon looks back.  
  
He's pretty, almost painfully so; eyes like clear windows, open and emotional; and Taekwoon wants to drown in them.  
  
Finally to the register and it's 9:24; where does time go when it's being ignored? He orders a black coffee with honey and waits quietly, patiently, feeling as the boy looks at him; gaze bearing into him like a strong wind: everywhere all at once. Taekwoon glances over, subtle flicker of his eyes; and this close he can see the gold flakes swimming in the brown pools of the boy's eyes. Sees them, and can't look away.  
  
It's when he's handing his debit card to the girl behind the register that he hastily says: 'can I have another coffee, actually? Just one more,' and so: with two paper cups warm against his palms, he finds a small table nearest the window: cityscape behind him, and the sound of revving motors.  
  
He looks to the boy, and the boy looks back. It's now 9:32. If he doesn't hurry, his coffee will get cold. Like a small animal unsure if he should take the bait, the boy waits, but he doesn't wait long.  
  
His strides are meek, gentle flow of his body like a river; but with precision, determination; the calm before a storm Taekwoon wants to be caught in.  
  
He sits, he stares, he leans his chin against his palm and says, 'I'm Hongbin.'  
  
'Taekwoon.'  
  
Minute tilt of his mouth, a smile curling like smoke across his face; and there in his eyes: a glimmer nothing short of mischievous. 'I have a boyfriend,' he says.  
  
'Me too,' though it isn't true.  
  
Taekwoon drinks his coffee, watching over the brim of his cup as Hongbin does the same; and pretends to not notice when he feels a tap against his shoe.  
  
-  
  
Outside and it's cold; windows laced with frost; concrete and asphalt reflecting the lamplight, the street posts; and Hongbin: standing with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, hood pulled up. He's looking toward the sky with its grey blanket of cloud blotting out the moon and the stars, making the streets seem dark and cold and lonely; but there's something in the way he stands with a smile in place, a dimple dug into each cheek, and the long, pale column of his neck that has Taekwoon thinking: Hongbin can be the moon tonight.  
  
He talks a lot, asks a lot of questions; always smiling, and Taekwoon has to wonder how one person can smile so much. His face aches just by looking at him; and yet, when Hongbin's head is turned, or his eyes are on his hands, Taekwoon feels the edges of his mouth tilt upward.  
  
Half empty pack of smokes; filter between his teeth, he feels Hongbin watching him carefully, eyes slanted like a cats, curious and curiouser; watching as he lights the cigarette; and like a puff of cumulus: smoke swirling in the air between them. He offers the cigarette to Hongbin who resists at first, only to take Taekwoon by the wrist, pulling the filter to his own mouth, hand and all, and exhaling silently through his nose.  
  
'How old are you anyway,' Taekwoon asks.  
  
'Old enough.'  
  
'For what?'  
  
'Oh,' and here another smile, 'you know.'  
  
Walking from street corner to street corner, Hongbin eventually ends up with the cigarette; he swipes it from Taekwoon's fingers somewhere between a hand brush and a shoulder touch. The night is spilling over them, and the lights are growing brighter the closer they get to the city. Taekwoon follows Hongbin's lead, always two spaces behind him; he doesn't know where they're going, or who the boy even is, but there's pressure in his chest, excitement, telling him:  _tonight, it doesn't matter; tonight, do what you want_. And what he wants is to follow.  
  
'So what's your deal?' Hongbin asks, cigarette now gone and dumped in the gutter. 'Why do you look so mean?'  
  
'I didn't know I looked mean.'  
  
'Are you a hit man?'  
  
'What—'  
  
'Gangster?'  
  
'No.'  
  
'Mob bosses son!'  
  
'...not quite.'  
  
He almost looks disappointed. 'So you don't have a dark and mysterious past, that it?'  
  
'I guess not.'  
  
'Do you like music?'  
  
Taekwoon fights to not smile. 'Well, who doesn't?'  
  
'Alright. Let's go,' and he takes Taekwoon's sleeve between his fingers, not touching his wrist or his hand, not allowing contact to be made, not yet; and he pulls rather hard, leading them away from the intersection and toward a small string of shops and bars. All the buildings are dark, windows like black caves peering into nothing, only finding your own confused reflection looking back at you.  
  
He seems to know where he's going and knows how to get there, too; pushing his way through the oncoming traffic of people, not minding when he's jostled a bit, his fingers firm on Taekwoon's sleeve; no room for separation.  
  
It's a music club with a live band and ear-splitting noise spilling from the speakers. A cluster of bodies too hot and too sweaty for Taekwoon's comfort; but thankfully Hongbin leads them through the crowd, not stopping for any of the numerous people who seem to know him, asking him what he's doing, where he's been; who's that man behind you? He's cute. Taekwoon tips his chin to his chest, and watches his feet.  
  
He orders two beers and pays for them too, never mind that Taekwoon has his wallet out.  
  
'You got the coffee,' Hongbin says. 'Let me buy this.' It's when the beer is halfway gone and Hongbin's chin is resting on Taekwoon's shoulder that he says, 'You're really handsome.'  
  
And Taekwoon, grappling for a decent response, trying to think of something that doesn't sound as lame as _you're handsome too_ ; but then Hongbin's pulling away, cursing a soft, 'oh, shit,' under his breath. Then his beer is gone, glass empty, small foam mustache on his upper lip that he wipes away with the back of his sleeve.  
  
'Put your arm around me,' he says a little frantically, 'and whatever you do, always say no.'  
  
'What?'  
  
'Just do it.'  
  
So with his arm awkwardly hooked around Hongbin's small shoulders, Taekwoon: trying to drink his drink casually, but eyes flickering everywhere at once, unsure what the hell is going on; and Hongbin, telling him to smile, so Taekwoon does; and feels Hongbin bury his face against his arm.  
  
'I said smile! You look fucking terrified,' and his cheeks are tinted pink, his smile so bright and wide that Taekwoon can't help but smile back.  
  
'Well, I don't know what the hell I'm doing..'  
  
Hongbin touches his cheek, faint whisper of fingers there and then gone; and replaced by a look so forcefully happy that it comes off as painful.  
  
' _Hongbin-ah_ ,' Taekwoon hears, and looking to his right he finds a boy with hair so blue is glows under the club lights. 'Where have you been, huh?'  
  
'Oh, you know.. around.' He reaches for Taekwoon's drink, finishes it off; orders another.  
  
'Is this your date?' and the look he gives Taekwoon isn't exactly friendly, but not unkind either. A glint of something in his eyes, was it jealousy? Maybe.  
  
'Yeah, yeah. Taekwoon. This is Wonsik,' and as if on cue, Wonsik's hand comes out to take Taekwoon's; weak grip as if the that last thing Wonsik wants is to touch him.  
  
Awkward, so awkward, Taekwoon is suffocating. The beer appears and he snatches it up, dumping back half of it before he lets Hongbin have a drink; and moving his arm from around his shoulders to around his waist; looking away, looking toward the club and the dance floor and all the people moving like one giant body of water. He feels Hongbin's hand touch his jaw, but when he looks to him, Hongbin isn't looking back. He's talking to Wonsik about school, about studying, about work; and things that Taekwoon couldn't care less about, but his hand is warm and his fingers are gentle. He leans into the touch.  
  
'Do you want to dance?' Wonsik asks.  
  
Here: a frigidness so blatant that Taekwoon has to wonder if Wonsik is blind to the fact Hongbin doesn't want him.  
  
'Dance? Well.. Taek, can I dance?'  
  
( _whatever you do, always say no_ )  
  
'You wanna dance?' and looking to Wonsik who's almost glaring now, as if challenging him to say no. 'Sure,' and Hongbin's body going tense, 'we can dance.'  
  
A string of motions so fluid Taekwoon actually feels proud to have thought this up so quickly: arm hooked tightly around Hongbin's middle, he pulls him from his seat and toward the dance floor, bidding Wonsik a silent goodbye. Once there: Hongbin laughing, face in Taekwoon's chest. He says, 'Wow.. maybe you're as cold as I thought.'  
  
'Cold? You think I'm cold?' Taekwoon can't help but laugh with him. 'God, he's looking over here..' He pulls Hongbin deeper into the crowd, hoping to hide, to mask them with bodies, because he really doesn't know how to dance to this kind of music; it's too upbeat, too wild, but then Hongbin's arms are circling his waist and pulling him close. Taekwoon doesn't know what to do with his hands.  
  
'What was that all about anyway?' he's trying to keep up with the pace Hongbin's set, but his feet are all over the place. 'Ex-boyfriend, or something?'  
  
'Or something is about right,' having to shout because the music is so loud. 'I didn't think he'd be here tonight...but, --what are you  _doing_?'  
  
'Dancing.'  
  
'Do you even know how?'  
  
'Not really. Not like this.'  
  
'Want to leave?'  
  
'God, yes, please.'  
  
Out of the club and onto the sidewalk with its dozens of nameless faces, cold shoulders and bony elbows. Forcing their way through the crowd like going upstream, going against the current; and Hongbin's fingers wound tightly around Taekwoon's wrist, leading the way with the lapels of his jacket blown open by the wind.  
  
'I know where we should go,' he says. 'But let me get a cigarette first.'  
  
Taekwoon doesn't intentionally shake two cigarettes free, just as he doesn't intentionally place the filter between Hongbin's lips; and it isn't until he's lighting both of them at the same time that he realizes how close their bodies are. Hongbin, looking up through his eyelashes, and Taekwoon, looking down with a small blush creeping up his neck.  
  
 _I want to kiss you,_ he thinks _, but I won't, because I can't, because you have a boyfriend and I don't, but that's alright._  
  
'Where did you want to go?'  
  
-  
  
They skip the buses and the taxis and opt for the subway, but by the time they reach the tunnel, it's already a quarter to midnight; and the next train leaves in five minutes.  
  
Taekwoon's checking his pockets for his lighter when Hongbin starts running. He doesn't yet understand he's supposed to be running too until Hongbin shouts for him to hurry up; and there are so many people, so many bodies to push past that Taekwoon's afraid he's going to lose him; so he runs as fast as he can, dodging weary travelers and side glances full of hate; he runs until Hongbin's just in front of him and he can smell his cologne and hear him panting softly as the cold air seeps into his lungs and burns him.  
  
It's only reaction, and maybe a bit of fear, that has Taekwoon reaching his hand out, not wanting to be left behind, not wanting to lose sight of Hongbin, lost in an underground tunnel full of strange people. He reaches and is surprised when Hongbin reaches back, thin fingers carding through the empty spaces between Taekwoon's own.  
  
They slip through the open doors just as they begin to close. Panting, sweaty; they laugh quietly together like kids sharing secrets. Side by side, knees touching briefly, Taekwoon feels the soft tickle of light fingers on the back of his hand, looks down and finds their fingers still entwined, Hongbin showing no signs of letting go.  
  
-  
  
How Taekwoon was convinced to put on a pair of ice skates is beyond him, but standing in the middle of a mostly empty skating rink with Hongbin's hands holding his, he thinks maybe it was an alright decision. Minus the fact his thighs are trembling and he can't quite keep his balance.  
  
Hongbin puts an arm around his shoulders, gentle sway of his body as if not wanting to disturb the air around them, and there, so close Taekwoon can feel the warmth radiating off of him, rush of his blood in his ears as his cheeks grow hot and cold sweat dampens the back of his neck; he's afraid he's going to fall, he's afraid he'll make Hongbin fall with him.  
  
'Do you know how to skate?' Hongbin asks.  
  
'I've done it before.'  
  
'But can you remember how?'  
  
'It's like riding a bike, isn't it?'  
  
'Not at all,' and a smile widening his face, so devastatingly handsome that Taekwoon thinks he's going to fall and it's not going to be because of the skates. 'I'll go backward, and you come toward me.'  
  
Baby steps; and that's exactly what they are: steps, not strides. He's trying to walk in skates on ice and his hands are tense and his arms keep flailing.  
  
'Don't freak out, or you'll take us down,' but Taekwoon wants to take them down, he wants to do anything that brings Hongbin closer to him.  
  
He stops trying to move his feet and allows himself to be pulled, body rigid like a cat's on the edge of a bath who knows they'll ultimately have to get wet, but still dreads it. One lap around the rink before Hongbin lets go; Taekwoon's arms are still reaching out, not wanting to lose contact, and all he can do is whisper, 'No, no, no...'  
  
'Don't worry, you're fine.' Hands hovering just out of reach as if teasing him into moving, and it works much to Taekwoon's annoyance. 'You're so tense; stop being tense.'  
  
He ends up with his hands on the half-wall, walking himself around the rink while Hongbin literally skates circles around him.  
  
'You can't dance, you can't skate, what can you do?'  
  
'I can kick your ass.'  
  
'Sorry, Taekwoon, but you aren't very intimidating right now.'  
  
With his knees together, hands white knuckling the wall; glaring without much convicting, he imagines Hongbin's right about that. 'Go away.'  
  
Giggling: 'Tell me what you like then.'  
  
'I like quiet.'  
  
So they leave the rink in favor of a dive bar with a muted television and a jukebox. Sat in the back, one beer each, Hongbin asks, 'What are you afraid of?'  
  
'I don't know.'  
  
'There has to be something.'  
  
'Dying, I guess.'  
  
'Everyone's afraid of dying.'  
  
'Well..'  
  
Arms crossed on the tabletop, Hongbin rests his chin to his forearm, and asks: 'What's scary about it?'  
  
'...it's something you do on your own,' he shrugs. 'It seems really lonely.'  
  
Hongbin's forehead creases, mouth pinched shut. It's a while before he says, 'I never thought of it that way.' And even longer before he asks, 'Can I have a quarter?' Then to the jukebox, choosing a song Taekwoon doesn't know but likes the instant it starts playing. It's soft, it's gentle; like the subtle sway of Hongbin's hips as he moves back toward the table, opting to sit beside Taekwoon instead of across him. He leans his cheek to his shoulder.  
  
'Why'd you buy me a coffee?' he asks.  
  
'Because you were looking at me.'  
  
'You were looking back.'  
  
'You started it.'  
  
He buries his face into Taekwoon's shoulder, laughing softly. 'Put your arm around me.'  
  
So, he does.  
  
-  
  
They stay until closing time, and by then Taekwoon doesn't have any change left on him. He's fed it all into the jukebox, playing songs Hongbin likes and finding himself with lyrics stuck in his head he's never heard before, but thinks he'll never forget.  
  
-  
  
Missing the last train home, they settle for the bus instead; and sit side by side with Hongbin's head never leaving Taekwoon's shoulder. Outside: the cityscape, bright against the black backdrop of the sky, and beautiful in a way Taekwoon's never acknowledged. He wonders if he'll see Hongbin after tonight; and thinks.. probably not.  
  
-  
  
It's when they're heading back toward the restaurant they met in that a voice, unknown to Taekwoon, calls Hongbin's name; and it isn't Wonsik, but someone else, someone tall with dark hair; thin limbs, lanky and pretty in his own way.  
  
'Oh, hyung!' Hongbin presses both hands against Taekwoon's chest. 'I'll be a minute,' he says. 'Wait for me.'  
  
But his minute turns into twenty, and Taekwoon, chain-smoking cigarettes, is beginning to think he isn't coming back. Standing by a stop sign with his back pressed to the pole, late autumn air blowing freely through the fabric of his jacket; he's cold all over.  
  
It isn't that he wants to leave, but that he thinks he should. Waiting on a street corner for a boy who's attention is no longer directed at him isn't exactly how he plans to end his night. So: one foot in front of the other, swallowing the bitterness he feels swell inside him, Taekwoon heads back to the bus stop.  
  
He only has two cigarettes left, and so leaves them in his pocket; arms tightly crossed over his chest, breathing warm air into his hands. There's a coffee house with an open sign in the window; and he thinks: well, why not?  
  
Sat by the window, tapping his fingertips against the table; he's just about finished with his second cup when there's a loud thud on the glass behind him, followed by a muffled,  _asshole_.  
  
He looks, and finds Hongbin.  
  
Into the coffee house, bringing in a flurry of cold air along with him. He shoves Taekwoon hard. 'You were supposed to wait.'  
  
'You took too long.'  
  
'What, did you think I forgot about you?'  
  
'Well, you did, didn't you?'  
  
' _No_ ,' shuffling his feet, head tipped down. 'Sorry, though. I didn't mean to take so long. You should have just pulled me away.' He nibbles his lower lip, dimples in his cheeks, apology in his eyes. 'Are you mad?'  
  
'No.'  
  
'You look mad.'  
  
'I'm not.'  
  
'You're glaring at me.'  
  
Taekwoon looks away. 'Sorry,' and suddenly there's a weight in his lap as Hongbin sits on him, not even bothering to be discrete anymore. 'Hongbin--'  
  
'Oh, calm down. No one's in here.' He slips an arm around Taekwoon's neck, face close and only coming closer. He traces his cheekbones, his chin; and says, 'Don't be mad at me.'  
  
'I told you, I'm not,' and he wasn't.. but he was a little upset; but it doesn't matter now because Hongbin's fingers, though cold, feel nice against his skin; and he wants nothing more than to stay like this until the sun rises.  
  
'What time is it?' Hongbin asks.  
  
Checking his phone, Taekwoon tells him, '3:18.'  
  
'Perfect. Let's go.'  
  
'Where—' but already being pulled to his feet, Taekwoon's coffee, now cold, is left on the table  
  
-  
  
Artificial dark with fluorescent lights coloring everything bright pink: another club, but much different than the first. Hongbin's grip is tight on Taekwoon's hand as he leads them through the steadily thinning crowd of people, leads them to the bar where he orders them both a shot and nothing more.  
  
'Can we dance? Like, real dancing this time?'  
  
And because the music is much better than before, and because Taekwoon's feeling a little lightheaded from tiredness and caffeine, he nods; and pulls Hongbin toward the dance floor; but they don't so much as dance as they do caress, and it gets to a point where Taekwoon really wonders what it is they're doing. Maybe it's because the club is so dark, or because there's a strange intimacy that comes with a crowd, knowing they aren't attracting attention anymore than anyone else; but when Hongbin laces an arm around Taekwoon's shoulders, hands in his hair, hips so close it's almost overbearing, Taekwoon leans in and buries his face into the crook of Hongbin's neck.  
  
He can hear the catch in Hongbin's throat, feel the slight tremor in his hands as they move from Taekwoon's hair down his neck, gentle rake of nails against his skin; goosebumps all over, and a chill that touches his spine.  
  
'Taekwoon?'  
  
'Yeah.'  
  
'Do you really have a boyfriend?'  
  
'Do  _you_?'  
  
Hongbin, chewing his lower lip until it looks swollen, fleeting glance from Taekwoon to the lights and from the lights to the floor as he shakes his head, and whispers, 'No.'  
  
A tickle at the back of his throat like he's going to laugh, Taekwoon swallows it down; and pulls Hongbin's body in, pulls him close between his hands and his chest as if not wanting the world to touch him; and unsure if it's from shyness, or weakness, or desire Taekwoon hears himself whine as he presses his mouth to Hongbin's own.  
  
Delicate lips, delicate tongue slipping into his mouth as his body becomes numb from his pounding heart; and in this moment, so perfect and still with the world loud around them, he feels Hongbin melt in his arms; boneless and light, so soft against him.  
  
-  
  
The eastern sky: a pale grey turning blue, crowded with a thick fog of cloud that seems to reach down, and touch the cityline. Sat at the bus stop with a cold metal bench beneath them: Hongbin sleeps on Taekwoon's shoulder.  
  
Cigarette between his lips and nearly finished, Taekwoon watches as the bus approaches; and feels his heart drop. Gentle touch, caressing softly, he cups Hongbin's cheek in his hand, and tells him: 'Your bus is here.'  
  
He stirs, but not completely; eyes swollen and only half open. Staring at the bus as if he's never seen one before, Hongbin doesn't move. 'I'll get the next one,' he says.  
  
Taekwoon doesn't bother to hide his smile; lifts his arm around Hongbin's shoulders, and pulls him into his side. With his cheek resting on his head, feeling the brush of warm breath against his neck, Taekwoon watches the sun rise.


End file.
